203.)

"Okay, how are you feeling? Hungry? Thirsty? I have something for us to do next, but I want to check in first because you're a bit of a ditz when it comes to self care."

"I think I'm okay..." I still wasn't very hungry, but I didn't know if that was true or that was just my apathy.

"I'll get you some apple juice anyway," Blossom said, and got up from the table. She had other plans for after the Lego set, of course. But she didn't want to push Amy too far too fast, so she decided to grab one of the little kid cups out of the cabinet instead of the baby bottle.

"Here's your juice. Now before we do our next thing, let's get you changed, hmm?"

Blossom put a cup down on the table with one of those plastic no-spill lids. It wasn't exactly a sippy cup, but it was something a child would use. And I knew what "get changed" meant; it was a very conspicuous phrase. I felt a knot in my stomach. Anxiety, probably.

"I dunno... I'm not really feeling... like..." I didn't know how to explain it. I was feeling a little better, a little more engaged. But a diaper? It felt more tiring than exciting.

"Oh, don't worry, I know you're a big kid," Blossom grinned. She picked up her tote bag of gifts and tricks from next to the table and rummaged around inside. Then she pulled out a pair of panties, only… well, much thicker. Obviously padded.

"I just meant let's get you into your trainers."

"Uh..." I didn't know what to say. Where did she even buy something like that? But the internet was a vast place, and there was a lot of ABDL stuff these days. And this was clearly an ABDL thing too. But not a diaper. Had she called them trainers?

"I don't need trainers?" I tried, but Blossom was quick with a comeback.

"So you don't even want to try potty training? I can put you in a diaper if you want."

"No, that's not..." I felt a touch of heat on my cheeks. Ugh, I was such a sucker for good dialogue...

"Then it's settled. Now are you a big girl who can get her own trainers on? Or do you need me to help? It's okay to need help, babes, I'm always here." Blossom had learned a lot about trapping helpless protagonists from her breadth of ABDL story consumption.

"I can do it myself," I said with a sigh of resignation. She really had backed me into a corner, and I had to admit... I was curious. I'd seen training pants like that online, on diaper websites and stuff, but never in real life. So I took the pair of underwear from Blossom and went into the downstairs bathroom.

I didn't really have to pee, but I did anyway. Then I slipped off my panties entirely and pulled the training pants up my legs. They were a little big, but I found that pulling them up over my stomach fit better. The thickness between my legs wasn't all that much, but a lot more than an ordinary pair of underwear. Looking in the mirror, though... I looked pretty cute. It had the same aesthetic of a girl in just panties and a t-shirt, but a little more juvenile. A little more on-brand for my interests.

I pulled my jeans up over the training pants. They fit just fine, but it pressed the padding tight against my skin. Like a onesie and a diaper. It was definitely thicker than ordinary underwear.

While Amy was getting changed, Blossom put away the Lego remnants, cleaned off the table, and laid out several adult coloring books. She also set out a few packs of markers and colored pencils. Her goal was to graduate from these more adult-oriented coloring books to ones that were more childish. A real-life recreation of the frog-in-the-pot analogy.

Blossom was waiting at the table for me. I looked at the coloring books: her next activity for us, no doubt. I sat down in my seat again, and my legs were forced apart every-so-slightly by the trainers. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling...

"I hope you like your trainers," Blossom said cheerily. "I wanted to get you a few pairs, but I didn't want to get more than one from the same seller in case you didn't like them, so you let me know your thoughts."

"They're... different," I said, because I wasn't sure what else to say. They were not panties, and they were not diapers. It was a new thing. Blossom passed me a coloring book and I leafed through it. An adult coloring book, not a kid one.

A complicated Lego set. An adult coloring book. A pair of training pants. Maybe Blossom wasn't trying to baby me as much as I thought. Maybe she was just trying to tap into some Little energy. That actually sounded a lot less daunting.

"Different can be a good thing when stuff that's the same feels weird or hard, though, right?"

As she watched Amy perusing one of the coloring books, Blossom did the same. Eventually, she settled on a picture of two horses in top hats drinking tea under a parasol with a plate of cucumber sandwiches.

"I guess so..." I never thought about it that way, but Blossom was right. The stakes felt a lot lower. I picked a coloring page that was more of a design than a picture, but it had flowers in it. I started with yellow, for the centers.

After I finished the flowers, I heard the theme song for Little Einsteins. It was already on episode four or five. I watched a few minutes of it before remembering that I was coloring. But a few minutes was enough for me to be curious. Every so often, I'd look up and watch. Sometimes I'd go right back to coloring, and sometimes it would take a few minutes.

From time to time, Blossom would stop her own coloring to quietly observe Amy. She noticed a lot of things about her girlfriend, like how the exhaustion in her eyes had finally started to fade away. How she stopped agonizing over decisions and just picked the next colored pencil in the line. How she looked up at the show and got lost in it for a few minutes before remembering what she was doing. Blossom's plan seemed to be working out.

"What do you think my horses' names should be?" Blossom asked.

"Um... I dunno..." Blossom's coloring was coming along a lot faster than mine. I kept getting distracted, and I was too meticulous with the coloring part. I was probably trying to prove something to Blossom, or to myself.

"How 'bout I name one and you can name the other?" Blossom asked.

"Sure," I said. "But you have to go first."

"Deal." After a quiet moment, Blossom said: "I'm going to name this one Persephone. I think her hat definitely looks like something a Persephone would wear."

Persephone... that was Hades' wife or something, right? I stopped coloring to think. Persephone was also the name of a hypothetical planet. People called it Planet Nine, which I always thought was very disrespectful to Pluto.

"The other horse can be Pluto," I said. And it stuck with the whole underworld theme.

"Oh baby, I love you so much."

Blossom giggled, but like, in an adult way. She began to draw some name badges on her two horses at the tea party.

Blossom was halfway through her own coloring page when I finished mine; hers was far more complicated. Everything was moving slowly today, but that was okay. I'd finished the sippy cup of apple juice, and I'd watched almost two full episodes of Little Einsteins.

"Done, I think." I turned the coloring book so Blossom could see it.

Blossom looked upon Amy's coloring with all the earnest appreciation of a parent admiring their child's artwork, like it deserved a coveted place on the fridge door. She beamed excitedly.

"Oh look at all the colors! You did such an amazing job! Did you pick this one because of me? Flowers like Blossom?"

"Uh, sure..." Not at all. But I was pretty sure she was just teasing me anyway.

"Hungry yet?" Blossom asked.

"Maybe getting there?" I still didn't know; my body awareness wasn't great today. If I thought too much about food, I'd feel a little queasy. But maybe that queasiness was because I hadn't eaten in a while. It was hard to tell.

"Well, how about you pick another picture to color while I order us food." Blossom's statement didn't have a question mark at the end. "By the time it gets here, I bet you'll be hungry."

"I don't know... that one took a while..." Starting another one sounded like a lot of commitment. And if I kept getting distracted by the TV, I'd probably never finish it. I didn't realize how complicated adult coloring books could be.

"Well how about you pick from one in this book, then?" Blossom asked. With a careful hand gesture, she reached into the bag and set down another coloring book, presenting it to Amy. This one was not an adult coloring book at all, but an ordinary one for toddlers. The pictures were simple, large, and inviting.

I should have seen that coming.

"I don't think those will be very engaging," I said flatly.

"Well, the page you just colored couldn't keep your attention off your TV show either, could it?" Blossom asked.

I opened my mouth to say something, and then I shut it. Because I didn't have a good argument. Blossom nudged the children's coloring book closer to me.

"Fine," I pouted, picking up the book and flipping through it to find a somewhat decent picture.

"Good girl."

Once Blossom was satisfied that Amy was doing as she was told, Blossom turned her attention to the app on her phone to order food for the two of them. She decided on wings, with sauce on the side. She could say they were chicken tenders which had toddler vibes, or she could argue they were boneless wings if Amy needed the grown-up reassurance.

I was right: the children's coloring book wasn't very engaging. But Blossom was right too: I couldn't keep my attention off the TV. I knew Little Einsteins was kind of a baby show, but it had a bit of nostalgia. And there was something to be said about a show with such low stakes... it reminded me of ABDL stories where the Little sits in front of some mindless de-education show or something. It was just nice to be present and not have to think for a while.

Was that like dissociating? Maybe I should ask Stephanie...

"Oh, look at your picture! It's so good!" Blossom cooed.

"I'm not really trying," I pouted, because the picture was not very good at all. I was distracted and mixed up one of the colors. And my hand slipped and I went outside the lines. After that, with perfection off the table, I was doodling just for the stimulation. The feeling of the pencil against the paper. The arc of shading a big area.

"Well I think it's fantastic," Blossom said. "This is going right on the fridge."

Blossom knew that it would be a problem if anyone else wanted to use the beach house, but that didn't matter right now. She would take it down before they left on Sunday. Phase 2: Little Kid Colorins' and Training Pants? Great success.

Blossom was sincere about putting it on the fridge, which I thought was ridiculous. My first picture I colored was a lot better, but that didn't get hung up at all. But adult coloring pages weren't usually put up on the fridge, I guess. Except the fridge wasn't magnetic, because a lot of modern fridges aren't. So she stuck it to the fridge with a piece of tape instead.

"Here, start another," Blossom said, opening the book to a fresh page.

"I'm bored of it," I sulked.

"Then try something new. What about crayons?" Blossom took a box of crayons out of her tote bag and opened them up. Then she started putting away the colored pencils.

"I don't want to," I sighed, trying not to sound too ungrateful.

"You don't have to finish it," Blossom said. "Food will be here soon. Just start it for me."

Ugh. I knew what she was doing. This whole coloring thing started out a lot more grown up than where it was at now. But I didn't want to say no to her. I didn't want to make today harder on her than it had to be. And she already went through the trouble...

"Sure, okay." I picked up one of the crayons and went back to coloring.

"One of the best things about crayons is that as you wear them down, you can get different shaped tips just by rotating the stick," Blossom said. It was a very simple principle, but she explained it with all the earnestness of a preschool teacher. Following her explanation, she sat down next to Amy and wrapped her hand around the back of her girlfriend's, manipulating her grip to show her how. Just like an adult demonstrating how to hold a pencil to a child who was still learning.

"I've colored with crayons before," I muttered, but Blossom was leaning over my shoulder and her hand was on mine. My face felt a little hot as she slid my hand across the coloring page.

"See, if you turn it just like this after you color with the other side of it, you can get a sharp tip for doing little lines and details. Just like a pencil, but more suitable for a little girl in your grade."

Blossom notably skipped using the "a girl your age" comment this time.

I blushed a little deeper and sunk into the chair. Blossom showed me how to color, like I didn't already know how! - and I squeezed my legs together around the training pants.

"Do you think you got it?" Blossom asked, letting go of Amy's hand.

I nodded sheepishly.

"Good girl! I'm going to refill your juice, so I'll be right back. You just holler if you need me. I'll be right over there in the kitchen, okay? Oh, you should try this crayon," Blossom picked up a darkish pink one, "it's one of my favorite colors."

I used Blossom's crayon to fill in the stripes on the awning of a tea shop, but it wasn't long before the TV distracted me again. When Blossom came back, it was just to set down my cup with juice, except this cup was a proper sippy and not one of those ones with the plastic lids. I barely noticed.

Graduating (or, Blossom guessed, whatever the opposite word of that was) Amy from "staunchly independent toddler" down to a more helpless age range was a slow process, but Blossom was damn proud of her perseverance. And she was proud of Amy for letting herself slip, even if it wasn't largely voluntary.

A while later, Blossom got a notification on her phone that food had arrived. She got up and discretely slipped out the front door (closing it behind her for privacy) to meet the delivery driver.

I smelled the food before Blossom had plated it up. It pulled me away from the TV and I watched her put small pieces of boneless chicken on a plastic purple plate. Then she put more on a white ceramic plate. She brought both plates and a few cups of sauce over to the table, but she didn't put any in front of me. I turned my neck to follow her back to the kitchen, where she went into her tote bag and pulled out a cloth napkin or something. But it wasn't a napkin.

"I don't need that," I pouted, as Blossom unfolded the bib in front of me. When did she get all this stuff?

"Of course you don't, cupcake, but your clothes do. So chin up, you won't even notice it's there."

Bibs were such an interesting thing in the Little community: bibs and bonnets both, honestly. Neither got the mainstream attention of diapers and binkies and bottles or even the passing appreciation of plastic panties, mittens, or booties. But Blossom definitely had a soft spot for them.

Ultimately, bib or no bib, it didn't matter. So I let her put it on me. I felt kind of silly, but also kind of not. I couldn't really explain it.

"We've got a few sauces, so you can dip your tenders in whatever you want. Do you want a fork? Or are you going to use your fingers?"

"Fork," I said, mostly because I knew she was tricking me into finger foods. But then she handed me a little plastic fork that matched my purple plate and I realized there was no win condition. Blossom had thought of everything...

I put the coloring page aside while we ate, but the TV kept running. Blossom wasn't holding enough of a conversation to keep my attention, so I defaulted to watching the show.

It was easy to see just how easily those story tropes and about TV shows that brainwash adults into being kids could be true, because out of all the things Blossom had done so far today, it was the semi-brainless (but only semi-) TV show that had the most impact on Amy.

"Which sauce is that one?" I asked, pointing to one Blossom was holding.

"This sauce?" Blossom looked at the cup in her hands. "It's a mango chutney. I think it's definitely more of a grown-up sauce. You've got your ranch and your ketchup, right? Those are both super yummy."

"I like the spicy ones." Two in particular, a spicy barbecue and a more traditional buttery buffalo sauce. Blossom had like eight different sauce cups, some from the restaurant and some from the fridge in little ramekins. But I dipped the oversized chicken nugget in the mango chutney anyway and took a bite. It wasn't that bad, actually.

"Ooh, you liked that one? That's such a grown-up flavor profile too. I'll let you have buffalo sauce if you want, but I'll have to wipe your hands clean before you can do any more coloring, otherwise you'll get orange spots all over your pretty picture. Don't worry, I have wipes right here."

Sure enough, Blossom did have wipes. Baby wipes. She must have brought them down from the trunk upstairs. Not that I'd need them, because I was using a fork! But whatever.